Getting Better
by Pir8grl
Summary: A collection of vignettes and scenes, following The Name of the Doctor. Please note, these are being posted as I get new ideas, and don't follow a set sequence. They all take place in the context of Clara and the Doctor recovering from the events on Trenzalore.
1. Chapter 1

He was always there. Ever since they escaped from Trenzalore, he was always hovering, always solicitous, always protective. Those first few days, he'd literally never left her side. Every time she'd opened her eyes, there he was, always with a tender smile and gentle voice. She thought it must be killing him to stay so long in one place, but he never once protested. And neither did she. She knew this wouldn't last, that as she grew stronger, he'd pull away from her. Not too far, she hoped, but she knew he'd never maintain this level of openness for long.

Those first few days, when she was far too weak to do much of anything, he'd sat by her side and told her stories of all his past lives and companions, helping her to put them into perspective. So very many companions had traveled with him before her, all of them unique. Leela, quite frankly, had scared her. Sarah Jane intrigued her, and she wondered of it might perhaps be possible to contact her when she returned home to London.

She particularly loved the memories of his fifth incarnation. There was a soft spot in her heart for poor, orphaned Adric, and she secretly thought that it might be a lot of fun to have another girl her own age to share adventures with.

She'd been too shy to ask much about his beloved Rose, respecting the deep pain that shadowed his eyes at the mention of her name. The memories of their time together were suffused with such joy. She didn't blame him for closing off his hearts and hiding from the loss. She wondered if he'd ever have the courage to try to find that kind of joy again.

* * *

She thinks she's getting better the day she realized that she'd last washed her hair April 10, 2013, before this whole mess started. She knew she wasn't, really, when he had to pick her up from the floor of her shower and put her back to bed. That was beyond mortifying, but the image of him with his eyes screwed shut, holding out a clean nightgown at arm's length sort of made up for it.

He'd held her later on, as she wept out her rage and frustration at her own weakness.

* * *

She knows she's finally getting better when he deems her fit to go for a walk outside. She forgets the name of the planet, but it's peaceful and beautiful, and they stroll arm in arm through a soaring autumnal forest. She'd shivered slightly in the breeze, and he'd immediately slipped off his coat and draped it over her shoulders.

Part of her wanted to protest that she's not made of porcelain, but the look in his eyes stilled her. He wanted - **_needed_** - to take care of her, and just then, that was exactly what she needed, too.


	2. Chapter 2

He can't bear to let her out of his sight. After all those times that she'd slipped in and out of his life, mostly unnoticed by him, he's terrified to close his eyes, terrified to find that **_this_** Clara has slipped away as well.

Sometimes, he feels like his arms aren't strong enough to contain all her pain. Other times, he fears that he's holding on far too tight…that he will literally leave handprints on her. Sometimes it's her, surprising him with the ferocity of her grasp, leaving a row of little half-circle fingernail imprints on his hand or wrist. She always apologizes when she realizes what she's done; he always brushes it off. He welcomes the small pain - it reminds him that she's still here, still warm, and breathing.

Even now, when she seems to be well recovered, he can't resist surreptitiously running full scans on her. She'd caught him at it once, and told him off properly. That didn't stop him. He's rubbish at this whole taking-care-of-people thing, but he'll do it for her - do anything for her. How can he not?


	3. Chapter 3

One day he found her huddled in the arboretum, arms encircling her knees, and tears running down her face. He crouched down beside her, one hand resting tentatively on her back.

"Clara? What is it? What's wrong?"

She didn't reply, lost in reverie.

The Doctor settled himself on the grass. slipping his arms around her. "Hey…what is it? Were you too tired to make it back to your room?"

She finally shook her head. "No. Not that. I…I was…remembering."

He sighed, and rested his head against hers. "What? Or should I say, when?"

She sniffled a bit, and swiped at the tears on her cheeks with the backs of her hands. "That Christmas, in London, when we were in the TARDIS, and you gave me the key. I started to cry, and said I didn't know why…but I did. I was crying because you **_finally_** saw me, and when you gave me that key, I thought…well, I thought that maybe it was over…that maybe I wouldn't have to die anymore. And then…well, you know what happened next…"

A solid brick of guilt rose up in the Doctor's throat, threatening to choke him. He swallowed harshly, feeling as though he were inhaling broken glass. "I do know. Of all the mistakes I've ever made, that…not being close enough, or quick enough, or **_whatever_** enough that I needed to be to save you, that is one of the ones I regret the most."

"I know. I know you would have saved me if you possibly could. And I know now that it needed to happen that way for the rest of the timeline to play out. Only just…don't beat yourself up about it, all right? Because, ultimately, it was my choice…and I'm okay with that."

The Doctor wasn't entirely sure that he was okay with it, but he had no words to refute her, so he just tightened his arms around her, and prayed to anyone who might be listening for the strength to get them both through this.


	4. Chapter 4

Clara drew in a shaky breath as she prepared to knock on the front door of the house on Bannerman Road. "Come on, then," she muttered to herself, "You started this. You phoned her." She raised her fist and knocked, not giving herself time to second (or third or fourth) guess herself.

The woman who answered the door seemed at once motherly and adventurous, an odd combination that reminded Clara of her own mother. Her eyes widened in shocked recognition and one hand flew to cover her mouth.

"Miss Smith?" Clara asked tentatively. "I'm Clara Oswald. We spoke on the phone?"

Sarah Jane Smith recovered almost instantly. "Yes, of course. Please forgive me. I know you tried to explain on the phone, but…it's just…I saw you die."

"I know. This is so…wow. Awkward doesn't begin to cover it. Maybe I shouldn't -"

Sarah Jane reached out quickly and caught her arm. "No," she replied firmly, "you were right to contact me. Please, do come inside."

* * *

Sarah Jane stared at Clara over the rim of her teacup. Realizing what she was doing, she shook her head sharply. "I'm so sorry. I'm doing it again," she apologized.

"Can't say as I blame you," Clara replied.

"I really did see you die," Sarah Jane stated. "I did. So how can you be here, now?"

"That is a very long story. It's a good thing you were with the Doctor for so long; you'll be able to understand some of this."

Sarah Jane chuckled softly. "Fire away."

"Well, the shortest version I can think of, an enemy of the Doctor managed to get inside his time stream, and kill him, over and over and over. But it wasn't just the Doctor who was dying. Every time he died, whatever he was working on failed or was defeated. The stars were going out, and millions and millions of people were going out as well. The only way to stop it was for me to enter the Doctor's time stream as well. I was scattered into a million…echoes, River called them, all running to save the Doctor and undo the damage. Usually dying myself in the process.

"So you're correct, you did see me die. I had to save you that time, because otherwise the Doctor would have saved you, and he would have died, and all those thousands of people he was trying to protect would have been lost. I was expendable; he wasn't. Simple as that."

"Clara Oswald, I think perhaps you are the least expendable person who's ever lived," Sarah Jane exclaimed in wonder. "But tell me, how is it that you're here now?"

"The Doctor entered his own time stream to save me."

"Something theoretically impossible, yet he did it anyway. How very typical. How long have you been traveling with him?"

"By our calendar, just a few months, but by his…well, his whole life. All of it; all eleven Doctors."

"And do you love him?" Sarah Jane asked, softly but intently.

Clara blushed a bit and looked down, unable to meet the older woman's eyes. "I don't know, exactly. I think I must, to do what I did, but…it's not the same as talking about being in love with some bloke from work or university, is it?"

"No, it's not."

"And what about you? You traveled with two of him."

"Oh, that was long ago and very far away," Sarah Jane answered, with a reminiscent shine to her eyes.

"You had some grand adventures, though."

"That we did. I'm very glad you came to see me, Clara. You will keep in touch, won't you?"

"I'd like that. Who else can I talk to about things like this without being carted off to hospital?"

* * *

**Author's Note: ** If you've enjoyed this particular chapter, you might like to check out "Tea With Sarah Jane," another collection of scenes and vignettes.


	5. Chapter 5

Clara wandered into the library and flopped wearily on the couch next to the Doctor, who immediately slung an arm around her shoulders.

"Hey - I was just coming to check on you. Everything all right?"

"Banner day. I made it through showering and clean clothes all by myself," Clara replied, her voice colored with a touch of bitterness. "I don't like being so helpless.

"Clara, stop it. You've just accomplished an extraordinary thing, and your mind and body need time to recover." He winced slightly and rubbed his temple.

"Doctor? What is it? What's wrong?"

"Just a bit of a headache," he admitted. "Nothing to worry about."

"You should rest. You've done nothing but look after me since Trenzalore."

"You saved my life, Clara. Really, it's fair to say, you saved the universe. Least I can do is look after you for a bit. Besides, the headache is from trying to remember. It's very strange. I recall some of you with perfect clarity, but I know there must have been so many more."

"I wasn't always close to you," Clara replied. "Sometimes I was so far away, and did something so small that you never noticed. Other times…well, they didn't call it the Great Intelligence for nothing. It knew how much you value your companions, so sometimes it went after them."

Clara's voice dropped, remembering darkness and pain. "There was this one time," she began slowly, "you were in Chicago with Rose in the 31st century. There was a stalker murdering women, and he figured he could -"

The Doctor swallowed thickly. "Kill her, to get to me, and make it look like just another in the string of murders. I remember now…Rose saw a news vid and started to cry…she said that the girl who'd been killed had waited on us at the cafe the night before. We would have been the last people you saw before…"

She nodded silently.

The Doctor turned and grasped Clara's shoulders firmly in his hands. "Clara, please, I need you to believe this - more than I've ever needed anyone to believe me before - I would **_never_** willingly sacrifice one person's life for another. Not even for Rose. I would have -"

"You would have done something incredibly reckless and irresponsible, and died trying to save me. I do believe that." She smiled a small, sad smile, and laid her hand on his chest. "But Doctor, that's why you need to stop trying to remember. I know you. If you dwell on this too much, you'll start trying to think of ways to go back and fix things, and you can't. I've lived a few lifetimes on Gallifrey, and I understand things now, about time streams and time lines and such, and you just can't meddle with this anymore. You can't. It happened, all of it, and…well, I'm not all right with all of it, not yet, anyway, but I think I'm getting there."

"What if I'm not all right with it?"

Clara smiled at him fondly, and reached up to stroke his cheek. "You can't fix everything. Some things you just have to live with. This is one of them." She leaned in and quickly brushed her lips against his, then sat back with a gentle smile.

"You amaze me, you know that? You, with your beautiful, fragile human life…yet...you are so much stronger than I am."


	6. Chapter 6

The Doctor entered the library, carefully balancing a loaded tea tray. "Clara! Where are you? I've got tea and scones, fresh out of the oven!"

Clara popped her head around the arm of an overstuffed couch near the fireplace. "You baked scones?"

"No! Of course not! A lovely woman named Mistress Polly Williams did, in her lovely bakeshop, in a lovely Yorkshire village, in lovely 1863."

Clara grinned mischievously. "Baked in a real brick oven, with real fire?"

"And how else would they bake scones in 1863?"

"Got any real butter to go with that?"

"Clara, just because we are traveling in time and space, do you think we have completely abandoned all pretense of civilization?"

"Well then, Chin Boy, get over here with that!"

Grinning hugely, the Doctor set the tea tray down on the table and set about fixing Clara a cup of tea.

She closed her book and set it carefully away from the food.

"What were you reading?" he asked curiously. "Oh…The Black Orchid…wonderful piece of scholarship, that. Have I ever told you how I came to have that given me?"

"I was there," Clara reminded him gently. "I liked that you," she added whimsically.

"Why?" he asked curiously.

"He was handsome," she replied, smirking over the rim of her teacup.

"Sucker for a pretty face is it? You and Rose should compare notes!" he grumbled.

"Who says we didn't?" Clara bit her lip, thinking that perhaps she shouldn't have said that.

The Doctor caught his breath, awash with wonder that the mention of Rose's name, and the thought of her, didn't cause him pain. _'Oh, the mischief those two could have gotten up to…' _

"Doctor? I'm sorry…that was thoughtless of me."

"It's all right, Clara. It's fine, really."

She gave him a tentative, side-wise sort of smile, and he touched her cheek fondly.

"So," he asked after a few moments of companionable silence, "Why else were you so partial to my cricket-playing, celery-wearing incarnation? I mean, really…celery? Whatever was I thinking?"

"Excuse me? Bowtie?"

He looked affronted, and she laughed.

"I think it's because he was the most like you," Clara said thoughtfully.

"They're **_all_** me," the Doctor reminded her gently.

"I know, but some of you were so angry or sad. He seemed happy…content. I loved watching him…you…with Nyssa and Adric. It was almost like seeing you with kids of your own."

"They were very dear to me," he admitted. "Nyssa and Adric were both from cultures much more similar to mine."

"You could talk to them about things the rest of us don't understand, or appreciate the same way."

He nodded.

"So how come you never found more companions like them?"

"You can't replace people, Clara. You, of all people, should appreciate that."

"Yes, but why us? Why humans from Earth? There's got to be people out there from societies that are more…I don't know…sophisticated, more like you."

"There's something that seems to happen to a society when it reaches a certain level. A kind of spark is lost. That sense of wonder, of wanting to find out what's around the corner or behind the closed door. Your people never seemed to lose that. Tell you something is impossible, and there you are right in the thick of it."

"You're welcome," Clara replied dryly.

He laughed and engulfed her in a fierce bear hug. "Oh, my Clara! My beautiful, impossible Clara."


	7. Chapter 7

She heard him before she saw him, muted sobs sounding from the lower level of the control room. He'd been huddled at the base of the console, for once not fixing or fiddling, just sitting there with tears streaming from his eyes, hands pressed against his face, trying to muffle the sound of his sobs. She'd only ever seen him cry once before, and that had been disconcerting enough, but this…she didn't know how to fix this.

She slid down to the floor beside him, slipped both arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his shoulder, and simply sat. Eventually the tears and the tremors ceased, and his body was still in her arms for a while. Then he roughly scrubbed the tears from his face, still hiding behind his hands.

"I'm so sorry," he mumbled.

"For what?" she asked gently. "It was a bad day for both of us. I'd say you're entitled to a bit of looking after."

He finally removed his hands from his face, and wrapped both arms around her, pulling her in close. "It was my job to protect you - all of you - and I failed. Jenny. Strax. You. Especially you."

"Hey. Look at me."

Rather reluctantly, he did.

"Friendship is a two way street, mister. We take care of each other. If it's just you looking after us, well, that sort of reduces us to the level of pets or something. Is that how you see us? Because that's just not acceptable. I know the others would agree with me."

"No, Clara. No. Not pets, not anything of the sort. You're my Clara, and I can't let anything happen to you, not ever again."

"If I'm your Clara, then you're my Doctor. Simple as that." She helped him to stand, steadying him when he swayed a bit on his feet. "Come on, then. I think you need some proper rest." She gave him a gentle nudge towards the steps.

"Clara, why did you do it?"

"Because it was the only way to save you."

He stopped then, and caught hold of both her hands. "No, Clara. Why did you do it?"

A very gentle little smile quirked her lips. "Does it need saying?"


	8. Chapter 8

That feeling was back, the same one he'd had that night with Rose, at the Olympics. An approaching storm…impending doom…whatever you cared to call it, he didn't like it, not one bit. Hadn't they just dealt with enough doom, impending or otherwise, thank you very much?

They'd just barely recovered from Trenzalore. He really couldn't bear to let Clara out of his sight yet, for fear that he'd turn around or blink, and she'd be gone. It was ironic, he had to admit. His oh-so-stubborn ship had finally provided Clara with a room of her own, a stunningly beautiful one, and yet, here they were, on a couch in the library, her head resting on a cushion in his lap.

It worked both ways, he supposed. He'd wanted to go to the library to do a bit of research, and Clara insisted on staying with him, even though she was clearly drooping with weariness. But that's the way it had been since they'd escaped his time stream. He couldn't refuse her anything. She'd asked to see the Louvre and the Alhambra, and he'd happily taken her. She'd asked for her dad, and he'd willingly endured 'the look,' and the overly firm handshake, and 'George told me about you,' and 'take good care of my little girl.' He'd snuck in a trip to see the birth of a galaxy, and she'd loved it, wrapped securely in his arms in the open doorway of the TARDIS, but he truly did understand her need for Earth things right now, so he'd oblige. Anything for her. For his Clara.

She shifted a bit in her sleep, turning her head, and he could see an imprint from one of his shirt buttons on her cheek. He bent his head and gently pressed a kiss to the endearing little imperfection.


	9. Chapter 9

_**She'd asked for her dad, and he'd willingly endured 'the look,' and the overly firm handshake, and 'George told me about you,' and 'take good care of my little girl.' **_

Clara turned once and waved to her dad as they meandered down the path towards the small playground where they'd parked the TARDIS. She wrapped both arms around the Doctor's and bumped her head against his arm. "Sorry about that," she murmured.

"About what?" he asked curiously.

"You know, the whole 'rules for dating my daughter' routine."

The Doctor laughed heartily at that. "Not to worry, Clara. It's just what all fathers do when their beautiful daughter brings a bloke 'round to call."

"Speaking from firsthand experience, are you?" she asked, with a merry twinkle in her eye.

"Oh, yes…I did it to my own daughter, and I did it to Susan. And…er…possibly a few times when I wasn't actually entitled." He blushed and fidgeted with his bowtie.

"You mean like when a certain emperor of the known universe was trying to propose to me?"

"Yes, well…"

The Doctor stopped walking suddenly, and Clara was pulled slightly off balance.

"Clara," he began, quite seriously, "If we could go back to that moment on the imperial flagship-"

"My answer would still be no."

He turned then, and grasped her shoulders firmly in his hands. "Clara, you just heard me promise your father that I'd keep you safe, and I will do everything in my power to keep that promise, but you've seen my entire existence, and you know-"

"That you might not be able to keep that promise. I know." And she did, probably better than anyone else in all of creation.

"He could keep you safe, probably better than I can." For that, for her safety, he could let her go, even though it would kill something inside him.

Clara reached up and laid a gentle hand over his lips. "Doctor, hush. I don't want to marry someone just to keep me safe, and I didn't go through all that to save you, just to walk away. I don't want to marry Porridge because he's not…you."


	10. Chapter 10

"Doctor, can I stay here, with you? In the TARDIS?"

"Of course you can, Clara, for as long as you need to. I told you that," he assured her.

"No…I mean…can I **_stay_**?" She bit her lip.

He slid onto the couch next to her. "Not that I don't like having you around, but d'you want to tell me what this is about?" he asked gently.

"Those things…those whispermen. They broke into Madame Vastra's home, and they hurt Jenny. I'd never forgive myself if I brought something like that down on George and the kids."

He reached out and took her hand. "You know, Clara, I'm not always the safest person to be around. Maybe, you might be better off-"

"No. No way. I am **_not _**leaving you; not after all that."

The fierceness of her grip on his hand surprised him a bit, although it really shouldn't have. He opened his mouth to speak, and had the strangest feeling that there wasn't enough oxygen in the room. He tried again.

"Doctor?" Clara asked uneasily. "What is it? If you don't want me here…"

His hand convulsed around hers and finally found the words. "Stay. I want you to stay with me."


	11. Chapter 11

Clara wandered into the control room and flopped onto one of the seats that ringed the exterior of the console.

"Headache again?" the Doctor asked sympathetically, noting the creases in her forehead, and the frown that marred her pretty features.

She nodded silently.

"Let me get you something," he offered. "It's not good for you to be in prolonged pain."

She nodded again, resting her head in her fist miserably.

"Back in a mo," he said gently.

"Is this normal?" Clara asked when he returned a few minutes later with something that looked a bit like an epi pen, but thankfully didn't sting or pinch or do anything other than start to relieve her pain a few seconds after he pressed it to the inside of her wrist.

"I honestly don't know, Clara," he told her seriously. "There's never been a human crazy enough to jump into a Time Lord's time stream before. I have nothing to use for reference. We sort of have to make this one up as we go."

"That's not very reassuring."

"I know, and I'm sorry. Can you tell me what brings these headaches on?"

"When I try to remember," she said promptly.

Sighing, he knelt before her on the deck and rested his hands on her knees. "Clara, I do know that the human brain is designed to hold the memories of one human lifetime, not the thousand or so lives that you've experienced. Forgetting is your mind's way of protecting itself."

"But I don't want to forget!" she wailed. "I don't want to end up like your friend Donna, who saved the universe and can't even recall your face!" She sniffled ungracefully and looked away from him.

The Doctor stared down at the deck for a long moment before trying to answer her. "Clara, wiping Donna's memories was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do, but it was the only way to save her life. Her mind was burning up…"

"I know," she replied in a small voice.

"And I don't think it will be necessary to do that in this case. I think if you just let your mind process through all the information in its own way, you'll be fine. It's when you begin trying to recall specific facts that these headaches start."

"But I don't want to forget it all! And don't try and tell me that it's OK, because you'll remember for me, because you won't! Most of the time, you didn't even realize that I was there!"

"I suspect that if you just stop trying to hang on to everything, you'll find that a surprising amount of information will be retained, just enough for your mind to handle. And I'm sorry - truly sorry - that I don't remember each and every one of you. You deserve better than that."

"It's not your fault," Clara murmured, trailing a hand down his cheek.

He smiled at her, then turned his face slightly to place a delicate kiss on the palm of her hand. "You know what?" he said brightly. "Even if you don't recall everything, and I don't recall everything, there is someone who does. Want to go see them?"

Clara nodded, and let the Doctor pull her to her feet. "You'll want to fetch a coat," he suggested.

* * *

Clara's eyes widened, and her face paled as she stepped out into the landscape of ice and snow.

"Clara, no!" the Doctor said sharply, realizing belatedly that a bit of warning might have been in order. "It's not - that place doesn't exist anymore - I'd never -"

She blinked, then shook herself, as if coming out of a trance. "Right. Of course…"

"This is a good place," he told her firmly, drawing her hand through his arm.

"Who lives here?" Clara asked curiously, looking at the twisting spires of a city that seemed to have grown rather than been built.

"A race called the Ood. There's one now, in fact."

"We welcome the Doctor and the Impossible Girl," the Ood intoned, with a slight bow.

"How do you know who I am?" Clara wondered. "The Doctor's the only one who calls me that."

"You saved the Doctor, and so by extension, you saved the Ood. We sing The Song of the Impossible Girl, so that the universe will always remember your courage and your generosity."

"Your people sing a song about me?"

"Would you care to join our circle and hear it?" the Ood asked politely.

"Yes. No." Clara bit her lip suddenly. "Actually…do your people sing a song about a woman called Donna Noble?"

"We do."

"Then…may I hear that one?"

The Ood turned its enigmatic eyes to the last Time Lord. "You choose your companions well, Doctor."


	12. Chapter 12

Clara looked up from her book, glancing speculatively at the Doctor.

"What is it?" he asked fondly, not raising his eyes from his own reading material.

"I was wondering," she began slowly, "what it was like to know more than one of me? Wow. That sounds so strange when I say it out loud."

"I didn't get to know all of you," he replied quietly. "I wish I did."

"But the ones you did know? Were they all me? Or, well…I don't know…"

"They weren't all carbon copies of you," the Doctor clarified. "There were many similarities, of course. All the Clara's I met were funny, and brave, and clever, but each a little different. As if I had met your sisters, I suppose is the clearest way of expressing it. What's brought this on?"

"I just wondered what it seemed like to you. Did you know that all of me had jobs taking care of people in some way or another?"

The Doctor put down his book and moved to sit beside Clara. "That makes sense, I suppose. You are a very caring person," he told her, smiling affectionately. "Some things just seem to be part of your fundamental structure."

"Some things," she repeated quietly, looking down at the book in her lap.

"Hey, what is it?" he asked, gently tipping her face up.

"Did you know that all of me lost my mum?"

"Oh, Clara," he sighed, pulling her in close.

"I kept hoping, you know? I just thought that maybe one of me would get to keep her, but…I guess the universe doesn't work that way."

"No, I'm so sorry, but no, it doesn't." He had found, in a thousand years of existence, that the universe occasionally **_did_** manage to find a way to balance things out, but sometimes it took time, years, generations, centuries even. To Clara, the loss of her mum was still too raw of a wound to take the long view of things, and so he just held her tightly as she wept out her grief at the injustice of it all.

* * *

_**A universe apart…**_

"Really, Pete? A nanny? Whatever are you thinking?" Jackie scolded. "I managed to raise Rose all right on my own, didn't I?"

"Yes, you did," Pete replied soothingly, "but the thing is, Jax, this time you don't have to. Look, we're both a bit older this time around, why not let someone else do some of the work? And besides…"

Jackie crossed her arms and sighed, raising an eyebrow. "Besides, what?"

"Look, this girl…she's all alone in the world. I think, maybe we can do her some good, all right?"

"Daft, you are," Jackie laughed, giving in.

"All right, then," Pete stepped to the doorway. "Come on in and meet my wife," he invited, ushering the pretty, dark-haired girl into the room. "Jackie, this is Clara."


	13. Chapter 13

The Face of Boe had called him a wanderer, a man without a home. He'd been called many other things, of course, not all of them flattering. Not that this was particularly flattering, but it was at least somewhat accurate. A distinct improvement over that 'lonely god' nonsense. He definitely wasn't a god, and for the moment, at least, he wasn't lonely. For the moment, he had Clara. He wondered how many more moments they'd have.

Quite aside from all the hazards that seemed to be his lot in life, humans were so fleeting and ephemeral in comparison with him. A century of life, at most, though generally they tended to become rather fragile in body or mind a decade or three before that. He'd told Rose she could spend the rest of her life with him, but had he truly meant it? Could he really have watched her fade and wither beside him while he aged not at all? He honestly wasn't sure anymore. He knew that giving Rose the meta-crises Doctor was the best thing for her - a version of himself that would live and love and grow old **_with_** her, but there was also a tiny demon in the pit of his soul that rejoiced that he'd never have to see her age, never have to visit her grave. That he would always remember her young and in love with him, never ill or aged or forgetful. He hated that little demon.

And it was whispering again now. It was saying things like '_don't fall_,' and '_not worth the pain_.' Trouble was, he'd already fallen, and a much bigger voice, one that sounded suspiciously like Rose, assured him that it **_was_** worth the pain.


	14. Chapter 14

"Ready to go then?" the Doctor asked cheerfully as Clara piled the last of her belongings on the floor of the control room. "Any place in particular?"

"Doctor, wait a moment, would you?" Clara asked, crossing over to stand beside him.

"What's wrong?" he asked gently. He expected her to be a bit sad about leaving the Maitland's, but her eyes seemed more somber than was warranted.

"Before we go, I need you to promise me something."

"Anything," he said instantly, and without thought. How could he refuse her anything after what she'd done for him?

Clara pulled an envelope from her red bag. It was addressed to her father. "I need you to promise me, if anything happens to me out there, you'll come back and tell my dad. I could have died at Trenzalore, and he would never have known what happened to me. I can't do that to him."

"Clara," the Doctor began slowly, "I hope you realize by now that if you are ever really and truly dead somewhere out there, the chances are excellent that I will already be dead myself."

"I do know that, but I've seen all of your lives, and I know that sometimes, things happen…people are lost, or even decide to go their own way. Just…if you possibly can…come back and tell my dad, all right? Don't let him spend the rest of his life wondering what the hell happened to me."

He reached out and cradled her face in his hand. "I promise."

Clara took a step forward and slipped her arms around his waist. "Thank you," she breathed against his waistcoat.

He picked up the envelope after Clara had gone off to settle into her room and tucked it into a storage compartment on the console. He prayed with all his hearts to anyone who might be listening that he'd never, ever have to make that particular visit.


	15. Chapter 15

Clara stepped carefully out of the TARDIS, the Doctor's hands covering her eyes.

"Ready?" he whispered in her ear.

Clara nodded, and he lowered his hands. She gasped at the sheer loveliness of their surroundings, and the ephemeral beauty of the ray-like creatures that glided through the air.

"It's…I…"

"I know," he agreed. "I haven't been here in a very, very long time, but I thought…I felt…**_needed_**…to share this place with you." Her eyes sparkled with unshed tears, and the Doctor couldn't recall a more wondrous sight than Clara's smile right at that moment.


	16. Chapter 16

There was an occasional visitor to the TARDIS that the Doctor was not precisely aware of. At least she thought he wasn't, although her thief could be a master of prevarication when it suited him. The TARDIS chose to admit this visitor of her own accord. After all, he **_had _**invited her, just not in this form.

She was quite fond of the whorl of pretty blue stardust that swirled around at will inside her endless maze of rooms and corridors, examining whatever struck her fancy with boundless curiosity. The mind inside that bright bit of shiny star-stuff was warm and friendly and soothing. The TARDIS greatly enjoyed the company of the lively incorporeal being and looked forward to her visits. She also noticed an improvement in the moods of her organic passengers when her guest was aboard. Which was why she'd reached out across the stars to her friend now.

The cloud of glittering stardust swirled through the crack between the TARDIS's doors and twirled merrily around the time rotor. The TARDIS hummed quietly in response and showed her friend an image of her thief, trying to sooth his impossible girl through a nightmare brought on by their recent and highly ill-advised (by her!) misadventures on Trenzalore. Sensing that her friend didn't quite understand, she followed up with a rapid series of images, including one of Clara directing the very first Doctor to her. Understanding at last, the cloud of blue stardust pulsed brilliantly, then sped off down the corridor.

* * *

The Doctor held Clara in his arms, trying to restrain her thrashing limbs as she struggled in the throes of the worst nightmare yet. "Clara! Come on, Clara, wake up!" His voice wasn't getting through to her, and he was terrified that Clara would hurt herself, thrashing about like that, or that he'd inadvertently hurt her while trying to control her movements.

Quite suddenly, her body relaxed in his arms, muscles loosening and creases smoothing from her face. She sighed softly and a small smile graced her features.

"That's it," he crooned, gently stroking Clara's hair back from her face. "That's my girl."

He glanced around the room, sensing a presence that he'd felt before, even though he tried very hard to convince himself otherwise. "You can come out now."

The cloud of brilliant blue stardust flickered into sight, swirling happily around the room.

"Thank you, Astrid." The Doctor glanced down at the human girl sleeping his arms, then up to the used-to-be human girl glittering about the room. "This isn't quite what I had in mind when I said you could travel with me," he said, by way of apology, "but I'm so glad you found a way."


	17. Chapter 17

"What're you thinking, Clara?" the Doctor asked curiously. She'd been sitting motionless on the library couch, book forgotten on her lap, staring into the fireplace for quite a few moments.

"Sorry," she said, startled. "What?"

"I was just wondering what you were thinking about over there, so intently that you forgot I was even in the room," he teased.

"I was just thinking about something Madame Vastra said, the very first time I met her. She was right."

"She quite often is. Right about what, exactly?"

"You."

"Naturally," the Doctor replied, preening.

"You don't even know what she and I were talking about," Clara reminded him. "For all you know, you just agreed to the fact that Madame said you have dreadful fashion sense."

"I do not! And anyway, she doesn't have human aesthetic sensibilities, so any opinions she expresses on such subjects are rubbish."

"I'll be sure and tell Jenny you said that."

"Oi!"

"An-y-way, as I was saying…Madame Vastra was right."

"About me."

"Technically about you and me, but yeah."

"You and me, how?"

"She told me that you weren't my savior or protector. I didn't understand what she meant, exactly, at the time, but she was right."

"Yes, she was. I'm not your savior or protector…you're mine."


	18. Chapter 18

"You never told me there was a Mrs. Doctor," Clara said quietly.

"You never asked."

"Fair point."

"She said you left her."

The Doctor sighed heavily. "It's complicated."

"With you, it usually is."

"I uploaded River into a database in the biggest library in the universe. It was the only way to save her. If I hadn't done that, she'd be completely dead and gone."

"Tell me?"

"It happened the very first time we met. She died, and it was my fault."

"Sounds a bit familiar."

"Not entirely. We kept meeting in the wrong order. It was -"

"-complicated."

"With River, it usually was." They both chuckled a bit at that.

"Doctor," Clara asked soberly, "are you going to just leave me somewhere, too?"

"Not if I can help it."

"But sometimes you can't."

"Clara, you've seen the way I live. I can't promise you neat and tidy with a happy ending. I take what the universe throws at me and do the best I can."

"Your best is usually pretty damn impressive."

"Glad you've noticed that." He reached out and took her hand. "But seriously Clara, are you scared?"

"Sometimes, yeah. I'd be crazy not to be."

"Scared enough to go home?"

"No!"

"So, together, then?"

"Together," Clara replied firmly.

_'For as long as the universe lets us have_,' hung in the air, unspoken by either of them.


	19. Chapter 19

The Doctor paused outside the door to the library, listening to the soft murmur of his friends' voices from within.

"What do you think Dr. Simeon, or whoever he was, meant? About the leader of the Sycorax? And what was the other one? Solomon the Trader? Who'd you think they were?" Jenny asked curiously.

"It's not our place," Vastra reproved gently. "Surely, after all we've seen, the Doctor has earned our trust…and the right to his secrets."

"It's all right, Vastra," the Doctor said quietly, making his presence known. "You're all rational, thinking beings…even you, Straxy," he added with a slightest shadow of a grin. "You've the right to ask questions, and receive answers…and the right to choose to walk away from me, if you don't like those answers."

Wearily, Clara lifted her head from where it rested against the arm one of the overstuffed couches. She looked better for a wash and change of clothes, but still seemed so fragile and …ephemeral to his eyes. The Doctor felt a nearly overwhelming urge to touch her, to reassure himself that she was really still there. As if sensing his need, she held out her hand for him, and he took it gratefully, settling beside her.

"I've lived for a very, very long time," the Doctor mused, "and I've done things I'm not at all proud of. I'm honestly not sure exactly where those two incidents fall in the grand scheme of right and wrong."

"Vastra's right," Clara murmured, "you don't have to…"

"You're entitled to the truth. All of you, but you, most especially, Clara."

She shifted over to rest against him, and he wrapped an arm around her, tucking her in close to his side.

"Clara, do you remember a few Christmases back, great big spaceship over London?"

She nodded.

"That was a Sycorax ship."

"The Sycorax are scavenging scum," Strax declared.

"Right enough," the Doctor agreed. "I challenged their leader to a duel, and won. I spared his life. My terms were that the Sycorax leave the Earth, for all time. As I was walking away, their leader came at me from behind. I…reacted. He died."

"A correct response," Strax said approvingly.

"I think I'm agreeing with Strax on this one," Clara said.

Jenny and Vastra nodded.

"He fell to his death," the Doctor added, carefully not looking at Clara. "He fell a very long way."

Clara shivered slightly, and leaned in a bit closer to his side.

"You don't have too many options when you're attacked from behind," Jenny observed, with professional practicality.

"No, I suppose not," the Doctor sighed. "As for Solomon the Trader, well, he was a very bad man. Amongst other things, he'd captured a Silurian ark ship and executed the crew."

Vastra hissed sharply. Jenny shushed her gently and laid a soothing hand on her arm.

"He traded in precious commodities," the Doctor continued. "Didn't matter if they were living or not. He treated them all the same way. To save the cargo of the ark - living dinosaurs, by the way - I needed to deflect a flight of incoming missiles. I set a homing beacon on his ship to attract the missiles. I told him what it was, and then…I left him there."

Clara slid her arm around his waist and laid her cheek against his chest.

"You were far more gentle than I would have been," Vastra said stiffly.

"Sounds to me like he had it coming," Jenny agreed.

"Perhaps. But I was…vindictive."

Jenny muffled a giggle behind her hand and the others turned to stare at her. "Sorry…sorry…I almost said 'You're only human,' but you know what I mean," she finished more soberly.

Clara shook her head wearily. "So, in an effort to get your friends to doubt you, the so-called Great Intelligence dredged up memories of two very bad men, who more or less got what they deserved, is that right?"

"Well, when you put it that way…" the Doctor replied.

"Why're we even talkin' about this?" Jenny wondered.

"Because you're my friends. Not subjects or sycophants or hangers-on…friends. Maybe even family, after all this. You've the right to know what an idiot I can be, when I'm angry, or showing off, or…"

Clara straightened abruptly, reaching up catch his chin in her hand, forcing him to meet her eyes. "Doctor, no one is perfect…not even you. But you try so hard, and do _**so much**_ good…just…if you ever start to doubt yourself, just know that we believe in you. Always."

"Always is a very long time, Clara Oswald."

"Yes, it is," she agreed.


	20. Chapter 20

The Doctor sighed and set his book aside as he felt Clara move against his side. One hand clutched at his waistcoat, and her eyelids twitched spasmodically.

"…hate you so much…why do they hate you…so much?" she mumbled.

He knew exactly what had brought this particular nightmare on; he'd been there, after all. "Clara, it's all right," he soothed. "You're safe…time to wake up now."

Abruptly, her eyes flew open, wide and terrified. Clara gasped for breath, her hand still fisted into the Doctor's clothing. He held her tightly, one arm encircling her waist, while the other hand stroked through her hair.

"Sshhh…I've got you…"

Slowly, her breathing calmed and she relaxed against him.

"Better now?" he murmured.

Clara snuffled a bit and nodded against his chest.

His arms tightened around her fiercely for a moment, and he pressed his lips to the top of her head. "Oh, Clara...to spare you this, I almost wish that…"

"That you'd destroyed the Daleks all those years ago? When your people sent you back to their beginning? No, you don't. The reasons you made that choice are still valid."

"All that death and destruction. My world…my people…and _**you**_. I could have stopped all that…"

Clara struggled upright in his arms. "No, Doctor. You got it right the first time. Everything deserves the chance to live and grow. To evolve. Even the Daleks.

"But they _**don't.**_ They don't evolve, or change, or grow…they just destroy. Over and over, everything that I love …"

"Hey. They didn't get me. Not really. Still here."

The Doctor cradled her face gently in his hand. "Yes, _**this**_ you, for which I am profoundly grateful, but Oswin…the pain she endured…"

"But out of that pain came a Dalek who could make a choice - a choice to spare your life. And she wasn't the only one."

"No," he admitted reluctantly, "but the ones who are different are so few."

"Doesn't mean that they can't make a difference, eventually," Clara insisted.

The Doctor screwed his eyes shut against the vision of Rose, placing herself between him and the Dalek in that damned bunker in Utah, and the tactile memory of just how _**hard**_ he'd held her when it was all over. His arms tightened around Clara instinctively. "You astonish me, Clara Oswald," he said, in a voice filled with wonder and gentle affection.


	21. Chapter 21

"Doctor?"

"Hmm? I'm sorry, Clara. What did you want?"

"I wanted to know if you were all right. You've been sitting there, staring into the fire for quite some time, and I called your name three or four times," Clara replied gently.

He swallowed hard before speaking. "Just thinking, is all."

"Thinking, and not talking? I _**knew**_ we should have had Strax run a few more scans before we dropped him back home." Clara's attempt at humor was smothered by the silence. "OK, now you're scaring me."

The Doctor looked over at her without smiling or reaching for her hand. "I'm a bit scared, myself."

"What of? You're usually brave to the point of idiocy."

One corner of his mouth quirked up, just a bit, at that. "Something's coming."

"What, exactly?"

"Don't know, exactly. Only that it's coming. And I'm…afraid. So afraid. The last time I felt like this, I lost everything, every last trace of my home, my people, and I was alone."

"But you're not alone now," Clara reminded him. She set aside her book and moved over to sit close beside him, and took his hand. "You've got me."

He looked down at their interlaced fingers and shook his head, frustrated. "You don't understand. When I felt this way the last time, sensed something vast and terrible coming my way, I ended up regenerating, and I was alone. Utterly alone."

Clara squeezed his hand tightly. "You're not alone now."

"What if I do regenerate?"

"I've seen it before, remember? Not going anywhere."

"But what if I lose you?"

Clara smiled at him. "I think I've proven that I'm just a bit hard to lose, haven't I?" Realizing that her attempts at humor weren't jostling the Doctor out of his mood, Clara leaned in closer and pressed her cheek to his shoulder. "I'm not going anywhere. I -"

"Don't," he said sharply. "Don't make me a promise you might not be able to keep. _**She**_ did that…right before I lost her. I couldn't bear that again…just don't…please…"

Frowning, Clara tightened her clasp on the Doctor's arm and burrowed closer to his side, but she had the strangest feeling that he wasn't really there with her as he stared off into space, focused on the mysterious 'something' he sensed coming their way.


	22. Chapter 22

The Doctor stared in the direction of the library fire, but he didn't see it. Not really. Instead, he saw spread out before him the gift and curse of the Time Lords - the ability to see timelines and sense impending events. He saw his own timeline, glowing silver-bright, like mercury, and all the lives it touched.

Some timelines drifted back and forth across his own, like the vivid ink-blue of Sarah Jane, having adventures of her own with her new-found family, or the pulsing blood-red of Jack Harkness. Then there was the strand of brilliant gold, bound so tightly to his own, only to be cut off abruptly, then flash again for an all too brief space of time.

And there was a strand of green, lush as a living thing, that twined through his entire life, like a stem of ivy. That was the girl beside him, who was reaching out so desperately to touch him, across the infinite space of a few inches of couch that separated them. She was always there, always saving him…even…he scanned more closely through his own timeline, to the bits where the glowing silver was tarnished with black, the bits that he hid, even from himself, and she was there. Clara was with him. Even then.

He blinked, and the vision faded, the comfort of his own library resolving before his eyes. He felt the crackling warmth of the fire in front of him, and the softer warmth of Clara tucked into his side and he sighed. She looked up at him with questions dancing in her eyes. The Doctor smiled softly, and gently extricated the arm that Clara held, wrapping it around her shoulders and pulling her in tight against his chest.

"Are we all right, then?" she murmured, her cheek crushed into soft velvet of his waistcoat.

The Doctor tightened his hold on Clara, until she was very nearly in his lap. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, then rested his chin on top of her hair. "We're better than all right, Clara…we're _**together**_."


	23. Chapter 23

The Doctor leaned on the railing and gazed out over the moonlit waters of Cardiff Bay.

"So, tell me, Doc…what brings you out here tonight?" Jack Harkness asked, passing him a silver flask, burnished with age and use.

The Doctor took a long swallow, then capped the flask and passed it back. "That's quite good, Jack. Gift from an admirer?"

"Something like that," Jack laughed.

"Some day I must tell you about the time I met Napoleon."

"Nice try."

"I did. I really met Napoleon," the Doctor insisted.

"I'm sure you did. But you didn't come all this way to find me, just to chat about recent Earth history."

"Recent?" the Doctor asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Relatively speaking, and quit trying to change the subject." Jack looked searchingly at his old friend's face. "Something happened to you, out there, and it scared the hell out of you."

The Doctor turned back to stare out over the water again. "I died, Jack. A thousand times, all in the space of a few minutes."

Jack inhaled sharply. "There's not too many people who'd understand that," he conceded.

"But you do."

Jack nodded. "You're here, now, so obviously, something saved you."

"Someone," the Doctor replied, glancing towards the lovely, dark haired girl who prowled curiously around the water tower.

Jack whistled softly, and the Doctor shot him a hard look.

"Who is she?" Jack asked.

"Her name is Clara. And you're right, she saved me, in every possible sense of the word."

Jack took another sip from his flask. "D'you love her?"

The Doctor looked down at his hands. "I…it's complicated…"

"You know," Jack said carefully, "it's OK if you do. No one who's ever truly loved you would find fault with you for finding happiness. All that poetry about how it's better to have loved and lost is bullshit. It's so much better to have loved and _**found**_."


	24. Chapter 24

_"'Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all." _

He honestly wasn't sure how he felt about that sentiment. The memories of lost love burned bright in his mind's eye, eternally fresh and vivid. Memories were beautiful, glorious things, but memories couldn't hold his hand, and he needed that, needed someone beside him…he got into so much trouble when he traveled alone.

_"I have lost things you will __**never**__ understand."_

He had lost so much, but not her. Never her. She was always, always there, always saving him. And she was there now, peering up at him with eyes full of trust and affection, her small hand fitting perfectly in his own.


End file.
